


Where You Are

by Nununununu



Category: Treasure Planet (2002)
Genre: (imagined), Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Don't copy to another site, F/F, Feelings, Female Jim Hawkins, Female John Silver, Future Fic, Getting Together, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Non-Graphic Violence, Not Underage, Reunions, Rule 63, Sexual Content, Sexual Fantasy, Size Difference, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 23:40:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20416214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/pseuds/Nununununu
Summary: The course Jim charts over the years always seems to come back to Silver.Rule 63 'always a woman' fic.





	Where You Are

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kinktomato](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinktomato/gifts).

> Many thanks to Kinktomato for the lovely prompts. I hope you enjoy reading this.

The only person Jim suspects was ever really bothered by her gender and ‘lack of femininity’ was her father.

“He’s a traditional man,” Sarah sighed, when she found her daughter curled up on the roof, the doll her father had given her for her birthday – three weeks late – tumbled down into the gutter. “He’s old fashioned.”

Even young as she was then, Jim had known that was no excuse.

She also knew her father had only bought her a present because her mother had reminded him. She’d overheard Sarah coaxing him when her mother had thought Jim upstairs in bed.

“Here,” Her father had turned up with the doll the next day, standing behind Jim for a while with his arms folded, watching her rewiring a little robot that she was attempting to improve, “For your birthday. Why don’t you play with some proper toys.”

And then, as had happened so many times, with an absent hair-ruffle, he was gone.

Jim had wanted to ask him if he remembered how old she was. Shrugging off her mother’s concern, she climbed back down off the roof and went back inside the inn to work on her robot.

\---

Sometimes Jim thinks about it; thinks about what might have happened if she’d gone with Silver. Freedom, no ties to anyone except each other. Swords in their hands and treasure lining their pockets, the sight of that wicked grin on Silver’s face triggering an answering smirk on Jim’s. They could have become terrors of all the known worlds and beyond, amassing plunder even greater than Flint’s.

She remembers the nearness of the other woman back in the longboat, the size and strength of her so close and wonderful next to Jim’s smaller, slender figure. The way Silver had clutched at the side of the longboat as Jim sailed them through the stars, and whooped.

She imagines Silver clutching at her instead. Imagines what it might have been like if they had that freedom together, now that she’s older. How they might have rattled those stars together.

How she might have been able to coax Silver that bit closer; to bridge that last bit of remaining distance between them. How Jim might have climbed on top of her in the opulent bed of some grand palace they’d made their own. The stretch of her legs as she straddled the older woman. The sight of Silver’s hair pooled out on a pillow, loose from its tie for once, hat and bandanna tossed aside with their clothes.

She imagines the shape and weight of Silver’s breasts warm in her hands. Jim’s own smaller breasts tiny in comparison to Silver’s fingers, metal and flesh –

“_Mm_ –” Jim’s nipples peak. She has to break off her imagining lest her fellow cadets hear her, asleep as they are supposed to be in the Academy dorms.

\---

Their instructor assigns them the task of writing about someone they admire. Jim’s not certain if ‘admire’ is the right word for her feelings about Silver –

It is – it _is_ – but it’s also the least of it. It doesn’t encapsulate her feelings whatsoever. She glances out of the window and sees a spark in the sky like a shine of a cyborg eye.

A distant ship, coming in to land. Jim runs a hand through her hair, messing her neat braid and mourning the loss of her undercut. As soon as she graduates, she’s breaking out the razor and giving herself her choice of hair back. She tugs at her ears for good measure, thumbing the empty lobes.

She’ll put her earrings back in, too.

The longing that strikes Jim at the thought of space – of sailing away – of _Silver_ – isn’t new. Chewing on the end of her pen, she turns back to her assignment, bending her head to her work like all the other cadets.

She writes about Captain Amelia.

\---

They are reunited unexpectedly.

Jim is newly graduated, newly posted to a recently launched ship led by a couple of fresh-faced officers, and they are under attack from a veritable horde of motley pirates.

Jim is fighting, looking while trying not to look for any faces she knows –

When a large metal hand clamps down on her shoulder.

“Careful there, lass!” A familiar voice booms, the grip on her shoulder swinging her out of the way of a sword strike at the last moment, even as a flesh and blood hand gives her antagonist a powerful shove, sending the pirate staggering off onto someone else’s blade.

“I had that!” Jim protests, braid whipping around behind her as she whirls in a half circle the moment she’s released to see –

_Silver_ –

Familiar hat cocked on her head and thankfully no more of her body missing: in fact, all of the other woman’s cyborg parts look noticeably improved. Silver is clad in a long rich dark velvet coat, similar in style to her old one and oddly fitting for all the rest of her clothes are as worn out as they were those years ago.

There’s shock on that broad, lined, familiar face, shock and a sort of smugness, and Silver shoots a screeching pirate over Jim’s shoulder before either of them speak next.

“Well lass, fancy meeting you here,” Grinning crookedly, Silver cocks her gun and gives Jim an obvious head to toe, “Just look at _you_. Told you you had the makings of greatness in you, didn’t I.”

“_Silver_ –” Jim almost chokes with a mix of emotions. She wants to reach out and fling herself at the other woman.

Battle is still raging around them, the ship tilting alarmingly against the backdrop of stars, but she flushes uncharacteristically and almost plucks at her uniform, abruptly aware of the fit of her tailored jacket and the new stiffness of her thigh-high boots. She shifts her grip on the hilt of her sword.

Suddenly the whirl of emotions inside Jim solidifies into a stab of inexplicable anger, “I haven’t done _anything_ yet –”

And then she’s lunging around Silver, sword parrying a wild blow from a fight that seems close to becoming an indiscriminate scrum.

Stepping back almost as neatly as if they’d planned the movement together, Silver lets her. The older woman takes the opportunity to strike someone on the head with her flesh and blood hand; bashes the ribs of another with the pommel of her sword. Her gaze all the while on Jim, bright like a solar flare.

Jim fights and the anger drains out of her, replaced by determination and joy that is stronger than sorrow. She already knows Silver will leave. She already knows she will have to watch Silver leaving her again.

By the look on Silver’s face, she knows this too.

But it’s worth it – _it’s worth it –_ just to have this much, just to see her again.

Jim fights and Silver fights with her, back to back for one suspended moment as if it really is just them against the galaxy.

As the battle starts to even out of its general confusion, officers yelling orders and the pirates hastily retreating in hope of evading capture, Jim and Silver end up face to face once more.

“Just look at you,” Silver says again, softer.

\---

Jim gets in trouble for her part in that misadventure, but not as much as she probably should, thanks to the chaos of the battle. The freshly launched ship is sent off for repair, Jim is posted temporarily to another vessel, and then she has the chance for shore leave on Montressor.

It is odd to be back at the Benbow at first, as if she has grown out of it despite the rebuilt inn’s much larger scale. She takes her old Solar Surfer out, washes dishes and helps B.E.N. in the kitchen, and lets him persuade her to give him a few upgrades.

Sarah teasingly wonders if B.E.N. has been going out courting of late – a possibility Jim doesn’t believe for a moment, knowing he still frequently rhapsodises about a certain android who was fond of dancing and called Lupe – and asks Jim if she’s met anyone, simply interested and supportive, without pressure.

Jim evades the conversation anyway.

Escaping up to her old room with a glass of purp juice, she spends a couple of moments tinkering with that little robot and fiddles with a few other childhood toys. Pushing her old storybook under her bed, she refuses to allow herself to think of Silver at all.

The next day Captain Amelia and Delbert Doppler come to the inn, and the Captain scolds Jim for letting Silver get away, which Jim chafes at but makes her apologies. They both pretend not to notice the Captain’s lack of real censure.

Doppler, on the other hand, wants to know all of the details, even as the ever growing children clamber over him and tug at his ears.

Jim deposits one of the kids on her lap and lets chubby fingers undo her braid as she describes how the ship listed and creaked, the blasts of the weapons, the shouts and screams of the pirates, the bravery of the crew. All the expected things. The kids squeal in excitement and beg for more, while Doppler does a poor job at dissuading them, his own interest clear. The Captain pretends not to listen, but Jim sees her hide a smile in her cup of tea.

Sarah joins them, bringing food for the children, and the conversation turns to the meal. Jim thinks about the way Silver’s coat flared around her, the press of that large metal hand on Jim’s shoulder, the way she wishes it had left a mark.

\---

These are other things she thinks about: the difference in size between them, the way Silver could – and has – so easily manhandled her. The way Jim would like to be manhandled by Silver. It _could_ happen, she’s sure of it, now she’s not a teenager anymore.

They could meet somewhere suitably disreputable, somewhere an infamous pirate evading justice would go; a place where Silver reigns over its underbelly with the strength of her reputation as well as her arms. Jim thinks of encountering Silver in some alleyway, the much larger shadow falling over her own.

“It’s time you paid up, girl,” Silver would say, or something like it, large hand braced on the brickwork as she towers above Jim, cyborg eye glinting as it scans the length of her body, “I gave up everything for you, Jimbo – the loot of a _thousand_ worlds.”

In reality Jim might well kick and curse and try for another stab to Silver’s mechanical leg if the older woman tried anything like that, but in her fantasy she lets Silver pin her to the wall, lets herself struggle but not get anywhere. For once enjoying being outmatched.

In her fantasy, Jim writhes at the broad hand Silver drags down her midriff, panting as strong fingers pluck at her skirt. In the fantasy, Silver is looking at her with lust and danger, arousal not far off from threat.

In the fantasy, it doesn’t matter that Jim only theoretically knows what she’s doing, that she’s never been touched before except by her own hand. She lets Silver direct her, lets the larger woman bare her breasts to the air and suck her nipples, fingers between Jim’s legs claiming her, and –

Jim comes alone in her bed with a frenzy of mixed feelings beating hard in her breast.

She entertains other fantasies at times, ones where Silver is soft instead – in the way the older woman was occasionally all those years ago on the Legacy when it was just the two of them – and almost worshipping, calling Jim her light, her treasure. Jim perching on top of Silver with some device between them – sliding slowly and gently down onto it, feeling it stretch her as nothing has done before. Those broad hands tender even as they near span Jim’s waist, guiding Jim into rolling her hips as Silver rocks up into her.

These thoughts too make Jim burn.

\---

These are yet other things she thinks: Jim remembers Silver’s bad jokes, the food she cooked and how she always made it look effortless, the seemingly infinite gadgets stored inside the other woman’s cyborg arm. The way she told stories, increasingly preposterous and endlessly riveting. The aggression she could turn on when needed and her attempts at charm. The warm roundness of her belly and breasts when Jim leant into her that time. The way she protected Jim from the supernova with her whole body, cradling her.

The sound of Silver’s laugh and the glint of the earring in her remaining ear. The way she spoke to Jim as if she truly believed Jim could do anything, before she denied meaning it. The way she had lied and betrayed Jim, but then saved her.

The shape and feel of Silver’s mismatched hands.

\---

They meet again in what is indeed a suitably disreputable place – an old space port, one that’s all but disused. Jim is slouched over a table in the corner of a rundown bar, using an old handkerchief that’s seen better days to attempt to clean a stray fuzzy little sentient blob’s face of dirt. Morph is nearby, having thoroughly investigated said blob and now occupying himself by transforming into a copy of the empty glass – complete with sticky fingerprints - then a dirty napkin, a knife –

Morph is suddenly chittering high and fearful.

“_Morph!_” Jim scoots back and to one side on her chair reflexively fast, grabbing both Morph and the fuzzy blob as she goes, and the knife stabs into the table top instead of her shoulder.

She’s been in enough fights by now that it’s second nature to kick up and out, aiming for the groin, not bothering to pretend that she’s going to play fair. Next moment Morph is poking the would-be mugger in the eyes, while Jim tucks the fuzzy blob safely away in a pocket before snatching up the chair.

The crash as she brings it down over her attacker’s head is satisfying – although not as much as the indrawn breath that comes from the direction of the pub door.

“_Jim_,” Silver says from the entrance, limned in the moonlight spilling in from outside. She has one hand on the door frame, the other on her sword, “You know, I was all ready to charge over there.”

“To the rescue?” Jim dusts off her hands while Morph zooms over to Silver, chattering fit to burst.

“Ah – there you are, Morphy,” Silver nuzzles the little creature, ever at ease being openly affectionate with him. She crosses the room towards Jim, her feet heavy on the sticky floor, the few patrons who didn't clear out on the fight now scattering in her wake.

“I didn't say I was going to charge to the _rescue _now, did I, Jimbo.” There’s a tease in her voice, for all it’s been years since they saw each other last and Jim is certain that’s _exactly_ what Silver would have done, “I could see you had it covered.”

The man on the floor at Jim’s feet groans. Silver continues approaching. Jim raises her chin and stands her ground. She’s intently aware of the flick of Silver’s eyes over her body, cataloguing her non-uniform clothes and the hair she’s cut fairly short, complete with undercut. One of Sarah’s old skirts tucked into the hem of her trousers at one hip for ease during situations like the one she just dealt with. The signs of adulthood in Jim’s face emphasised by the faint lines around her eyes.

In a bit less than five years Jim will be thirty. Silver is living up to her name with streaks of silver in the hair escaping out from under her hat and bandana – Jim wants to tug the coverings off, wants to ease out the tie. Wants to free Silver’s hair and tuck her hands under the other woman’s coat, and reach her arms around as much of Silver as she can.

“Miss me, Jimbo?” Silver asks quietly, as if they’re not in a seedy bar in the middle of nowhere. As if they’re alone.

“Miss _me_?” Jim shoots back.

“Heard there was some young pup here getting herself in trouble,” Silver says instead of replying, although the slant of her smile and the dampness of her organic eye says it for her. “Got a bit of grease in this thing,” she adds a moment later, indicating the cyborg eye and turning away to rub at both.

Jim takes the opportunity to wipe at her eyes as well.

This reunion isn’t like anything she imagined. It’s better. They’re swaying back towards each other shortly like they’re trying to breathe each other’s air.

“I left the navy,” Jim admits without meaning to at all. She hasn’t even told Sarah yet; came here to hide away for a while in disgrace instead of going back home. But saying it now, seeing Silver nod and hum, it doesn’t feel like she’s left her course half uncharted after all.

“I’ve been working three doors down as a cook for the past year,” Silver confesses in return, hooking a thumb over her shoulder to indicate the place, “Not much of a life, but it ain’t bad. Been collecting up a few rumours, couple of interesting maps. I don’t suppose you want to come and see?”

Looking up at her face, Jim thinks there might be a different question in the other woman’s voice.

“Of _course_ I do,” Jim replies.

Leaving the pub together, she tips her head back in the cool night air. For a moment looking up at the stars feels like speeding on her old Solar Surfer, feels like falling – but Silver’s hand on her shoulder provides a steadying anchor.

“Of _course_ I missed you, lass,” Silver says quietly, sincere, as they walk through the empty streets back to Silver’s small lodgings, “Why else do you think I’ve been waiting for you?”

“You told me to chart my own course and stick to it,” Jim can’t look at her in that moment, aware of her heart beating hard in her chest, “Turns out I couldn’t stick to the navy.” She takes a deep breath in, “Turns out I was already stuck to you.”

“You could be,” Silver says as they stop walking to face each other, her voice thick like she's repressing emotion, and her flesh and blood hand on Jim’s cheek is gentle for all of its size and strength, “Can’t imagine why you’d want to though, lass. Old scallywag like me? I’d just hold you back.”

“I’ve been waiting for _you _too,” Jim insists, “Might have been collecting some rumours as well, a few secrets we both might be interested in.”

There’s dampness in her eyes again as she shoves herself up on tiptoes without thinking, finally, _finally_ wrapping her arms around Silver’s neck as she’s longed to for years, holding on.

“Sounds mighty tempting,” Silver holds her back just as tightly, until the little fuzzy blob in Jim’s pocket starts squawking and the noise breaks them apart. “Look at you, lass, still adopting any old thing.”

“I think it’s adopted us both,” Jim corrects as the blob tries to bite a metal finger. Morph appears out of Silver’s collar to scold it. Chuckling, Silver closes her fingers around them, effectively covering both creatures’ eyes. A dare sparkling in her own eyes, organic and cyborg, as she looks at Jim.

Jim takes that dare. Clutching the collar of Silver’s coat, she pushes back up on her tiptoes as Silver leans down in return.


End file.
